


Of Snow and the Solstice

by Heartless_Sigyn (Alexis_Rockford)



Series: Devil or Angel: An MCU-Compliant Logyn Continuity [6]
Category: Loki: Agent of Asgard, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies)
Genre: AO3 FACEBOOK CHALLENGE, AO3 FB Challenge, AO3 Writers Facebook Group, AO3 Writers Facebook Group Monthly Challenge, Anniversary, Banter, Bickering, Casket of Ancient Winters, F/M, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Jotunn | Frost Giant, Jötunheimr | Jotunheim, Mind Control, Snow, Snowmen, Vanaheimr | Vanaheim, Winter, Winter Solstice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-02 20:43:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16794397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexis_Rockford/pseuds/Heartless_Sigyn
Summary: “You’ve wounded me to the heart,” he moaned. “My lovemaking has been called many things, but thus far ‘sad’ has not been one of them.”On their six-month anniversary, Loki surprises Sigyn with a trip to Jotunheim where she encounters snow for the first time. Unfortunately, Loki is still Loki, which means he has an ulterior motive...This one-shot fits into the continuity of myDevil or Angelseries, but it can be read as a stand alone. It is also part of my entry for the December AO3 Facebook Challenge to write both a gen fic and a ship fic in the same fandom based on the prompt: "Hello, winter."





	Of Snow and the Solstice

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be unabashed pure winter fluff, but Loki had other ideas. ;) While researching this fic, I realised that the Casket of Ancient Winters disappears from the MCU from the end of _Thor_ in 2011 until _Ragnarok_ in 2017. Where was the Casket during this time? I decided to answer this question as well as indulge my shipper side while completing the challenge from the AO3 FB group. I hope you enjoy the result.

Sigyn had to admit that Vanaheim was lovely at this time of year. Of course, much like Midgard, it was lovely at every time of the year. In the three months since she had taken up residence there, she could only recall six or seven days of inclement weather. This, at least, had been a change from the relentlessly scorching heat that Asgard had endured since the god of thunder’s departure over a year previously. Not that Sigyn was _exactly_ complaining about the weather. She didn’t mind the heat, especially if it meant a trip to Franang’s Falls with her new husband. But sometimes the sameness of the climate got to her, and she yearned for even the smallest break from the monotony.

Vanaheim had been a welcome new adventure for her. After several months of pleading, she had finally convinced Loki that as Odin, he should send emissaries to the other realms. She had even volunteered as ambassador to whichsoever he deigned to send her as long as he promised to find suitable persons to send to the other seven. She had always yearned to travel, but as a lowly orphan and then later, an important member of the House of Healing, she was denied access to the Bifrost and the wonders of exploration that it offered. The prospect of venturing to a new world at last had almost been too much for her heart to handle. She desperately hoped that “Odin” would send her to somewhere vastly exotic like Svartalfheim or even Midgard, somewhere that desperately needed Asgardian goodwill delivered by a sympathetic soul such as herself.

But, no, he had chosen to dispatch her to Vanaheim, the nearest realm to Asgard both distance-wise and in culture. She should have known that his desire to protect her would win out over any of the persuasive arguments she had made regarding the other realms. And yet, how could she be cross with him? His reasons for wanting to keep her close were selfish, but also deeply gratifying. Her proximity also made it easy for him to slip away from Asgard every night and order Skurge to transport him back into her waiting arms. And despite the fact that their daily separation usually lasted less than twelve hours, their nocturnal reunions were as passionate as if they had been apart for years. As much as she enjoyed her new occupation of winning friends for her home realm, she found herself looking forward to his visits more and more each day. They were, after all, still newlyweds, and had it been up to him, they would have lived out the rest of their lives in his cozy apartment in the palace. Her relocation had been a hard-won compromise, and she never let herself forget that fact, especially when she gazed out the window of her quarters in the Vanir capital, dreaming of faraway places that she would likely never see.

“Sunset at last,” murmured a familiar baritone voice. She closed her eyes as his footsteps approached behind her, her breath picking up speed. She felt the hair swept away from the back of her neck and the soft pressure of his mouth beneath her right ear.

“‘Twould approach more quickly if we were in Midgard,” she suggested as his lips continued to make their way down her jawline. “Apparently, the days are quite short there at the present.”

Loki exhaled quickly through his nostrils. “Midgard,” he muttered, turning her toward him, “is really not all that it’s cracked up to be. Besides,” he continued with a wry smile, “I’m fairly certain that I am no longer welcome there.”

“And whose fault is that?” she chided with a smile. She extended her index finger and poked him on the nose, and he snapped his teeth at her playfully.

“But you are right about one thing,” he admitted, pulling her into his arms.

“Only one?” she teased while nuzzling his neck.

He chuckled under his breath before explaining. “The spherical nature of planet Earth does make for some very long nights. The longest night, in fact, is tomorrow. December 21st.”

Sigyn made a noise of delight. “Our six month anniversary,” she reminded him gently.

“Here it comes,” he said, and she could hear the eye-roll in his tone even though her face was still buried in his chest.

“Please can we take a trip to Midgard?” she begged with the merest hint of a whine in her voice.

He held her at arm’s length. “Trust me when I say that I would do anything for you, my darling,” he purred soothingly, “ _except_ that.”

She frowned, pressing her lips forward. “You’re no fun.”

His eyebrow shot up. “Oh, really?” he challenged, his eyes alight with mischief.

She shook her head vehemently although her resolve wavered the longer she looked at him. “No. You are not going to get back into my good graces so easily this time.”

But Loki, as ever, was quite determined to prove her wrong, and she was more than willing to let him.

Several hours later, as they lay in the dark together, Sigyn began to softly hum an old Midgardian song she had learned many years ago. If she recalled correctly, the original lyrics had something to do with the colour of a maiden’s dress, but for some reason, she also associated the tune with this time of year.

“Not that your singing isn’t perfectly lovely,” Loki whispered, sending pricks of fire across her skin, “but some of us are trying to sleep.”

“You don’t sleep,” she countered, rolling over to face him.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” he offered weakly. “By the by, what were you humming anyway?”

“I think it’s called ‘Greensleeves,’” she replied. “Rather a sad little tune, I must confess, but somehow, it seemed appropriate.”

“You’ve wounded me to the heart,” he moaned. “My lovemaking has been called many things, but thus far ‘sad’ has not been one of them.”

“Oh, hush. ‘Twas not what I meant, and you know it.”

“‘Alas, my love, you do me wrong,’” he sang purposely off-key.

“I thought you weren’t familiar with the song?”

“I said nothing of the kind. I merely asked you its name.”

“‘Semantics again,’” they intoned in unison, and then laughed.

She turned over again, and he pulled her closer to him, wrapping his arms around her. “For some reason,” she began hesitantly. “The gloom of this season on Midgard brought it to mind. The beauty and fleeting nature of the winter light in contrast with the power of the darkness. The shadows the trees cast against the freshly fallen snow. Not that I’ve ever seen snow.”

Loki was uncharacteristically silent for a moment, which worried her. “What is going on in that devious little mind of yours?” she finally asked, almost afraid to know the answer.

“Never you mind,” he murmured reassuringly. “Sleep now.”

He stroked her hair lovingly, and she soon felt herself drifting into oblivion. “You, too,” she managed to get out before she lost consciousness completely.

The next morning, she awoke to a startling sight. Loki was standing at the window dressed in the oddest fashion. He wore a long black overcoat with a scarf of deep forest green around his neck. Soft leather boots rose up to his calves which were clad in warm black cotton. He pivoted to face her as soon as he heard her gasp of confusion. “Good morrow, beloved,” he called cheerily. He nodded to the ornate chesterfield across from her bed where a stylish wool peacoat and a scarf, both of which were the same colour as his scarf, were laid out for her approval.

She fumbled for her dressing gown and hurried over to examine the garment. “This is...are we…Is this for me?” was all she could manage to utter.

“‘And who but my lady Greensleeves?’” he sang sweetly in reply.

If he were nearer, she would have given him a playful shove, but as it was, she turned to the coat and slowly stroked the thick material instead. “It’s so warm,” she breathed in delight as she tried it on.

“I should hope so,” he said with a knowing smile, retrieving the scarf that she had left on the arm of the chesterfield. “You’ll need it where we’re going.”

Sigyn’s brows shot up in excitement as he tenderly placed the scarf on her shoulders. “Are we truly going to Midgard?”

The light in Loki’s eyes dimmed minutely. “Not Midgard. I already told you that was a terrible idea given my history there.”

“But these are Midgardian clothes,” she insisted, looking down at her new outfit and twirling girlishly.

“Yes,” he admitted grudgingly, retrieving the scarf that had fallen off in her haste. “I had Skurge fetch them early this morning. It was the least I could do considering your inexplicable love for the humans.” He made a sour face as though he had just bitten into an unripe strawberry.

“Then where are we…?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he replied in the sing-song tone he often used when he was starting to lose patience. “Now hurry up and put on something suitable. And don’t forget the scarf.” He tossed it back onto the chesterfield.

She started toward her wardrobe, then frowned. “Won’t this look a bit odd with Asgardian attire underneath?”

“Looks can be deceiving,” he said with a wink.

She narrowed her eyes at him, but he merely gave her a helpless shrug. Frowning, she flung open the door to her wardrobe to find an entire rainbow of knitted jumpers hanging within.

“You look ravishing in any colour,” he explained. “So, I decided the choice should be yours.”

Sigyn fingered the jumpers in turn, each softer and more lovely than the last. She finally selected one in a deep fuchsia shade that she had never seen in Asgard before.

“You remembered,” he whispered raspily from behind her.

“How much you admire me in pink?” she finished, beaming at him over her shoulder. “Of course. I forget nothing.”

He grinned at her use of yet another of their inside jokes and gave her a quick peck on the lips before heading for the door. “There is a pair of jeans in the hope chest,” he instructed. “Your boots are in the next room.”

Sigyn nodded, although she wasn’t quite certain what jeans were. “I’ll be out in a trice,” she promised.

“You’d better,” he agreed cheerfully. “Your chariot awaits.”

“My _chariot_?”

“Well, it’s technically an Asgardian skiff,” he amended.

“That’s more like it.”

A man with wild ginger hair and a beard was pacing outside the makeshift Asgardian embassy when she arrived. “What took you so long?” he asked in exasperation. The guise was unfamiliar, but the voice belonged to Loki.

“Asgardian undergarments don’t really work with Midgardian clothing,” she pointed out as she approached the small hovercraft adorned with the familiar winged cornices of Asgard. She was annoyed not only with his impatience but also with the fact that his faked death made it necessary for him to hide his true form from the small clusters of pedestrians that were loitering nearby on this unseasonably warm night. She supposed it was a small price to pay for being married to the self-proclaimed cleverest being in the universe, but she couldn’t help wishing they could appear in public as a true couple for once.

Loki’s countenance flashed with a brief rage that was quickly replaced by something closer to sorrow. “No good deed goes unpunished, I see,” he huffed, lacing his arms together in self-protection. “I try to do something nice for you, and all you do is complain. How typically female of you.”

“Virtue should be its own reward,” she said uncharitably, jauntily flipping her new scarf around her neck to accentuate her point, “and how dare you bring my sex into this!”

“I do what I want!” he declared stubbornly, and several passersby turned to look at the crazy-haired man in his strange, long coat. “Besides, I know what it is to be female, remember?”

Sigyn stamped her foot in response. She knew it was childish, but he wasn’t exactly being an adult about it either. They glared at each other for a few moments of stony silence, each daring the other to crack, but she could feel her anger crumbling. Damn those sad, pleading eyes of his, which he had conveniently left their alluring shade of blue!

“Loki, I-” she began aloud, but then remembered the onlookers and switched to her preferred method of communication. _I’m sorry,_ she said gently inside his mind. _I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. I’m not. I really appreciate this kind gesture. It’s just that, well, sometimes you get on my last nerve._

I _get on_ your _last nerve? That’s hilarious. Try being married to someone who always has to be right._

Sigyn couldn’t help a small smile at how indignant he sounded, even in thought-speech. _You are lucky you are so adorable._ She approached him on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek.

He made a small sound of apparent annoyance, but she was unconvinced that he was truly displeased. Her assessment proved correct, for he narrowed his gaze slyly before picking her up and lifting her gracefully over the side of the skiff. She gasped at being so unexpectedly thrust aloft, but her surprise quickly dissolved into a peal of giddy laughter.

“Honestly,” she chided, “what am I going to do with you?”

“The more pertinent question is what I am going to do to you,” he murmured as he leapt gracefully into the vehicle himself. Chills of anticipation travelled up and down her spine at his words. For the moment, he merely winked as he settled at the controls of the small ship and expertly guided it away from Vanaheim’s capital toward the mountains.

As soon as the little skiff began to move, Sigyn swore she could hear an odd tinkling sound. For a moment, she was reminded of the chain she had used to bind Loki to her during their honeymoon, but she had transformed their manacles back into wedding rings ages ago. Looking over the edge, she spied several long red ribbons affixed to the ornamental pinions that sprouted from either side of the craft. Little round bells had been sewn onto their entire length and now they jangled enthusiastically as they flew straight out behind them in the stiff breeze.

“You made me a sleigh,” she gasped in excitement as they sped along. Her tangled raven-black hair blew into her face as she turned to look at her husband.

Loki, who had resumed his accustomed form as soon as they were on the outskirts of town, grinned back at her. “A bit over the top, I confess,” he said, but his twinkling eyes revealed complete impenitence for this ostentation.

“‘Tis perfection,” she insisted. “What can I say? I suppose I’m a creature of sentiment.”

“I am aware,” he agreed, and a rosy glow bloomed on her cheeks. Whether it was caused by the brisk wind or his relentless teasing was anybody’s guess.

“I don’t suppose this means you are taking your father’s place as Jólnir this year?” she asked with a twinkle in her eyes.

“Not bloody likely,” he muttered under his breath, eliciting another ripple of giggles from her.

The mountains soon loomed in front of them, and Loki pulled back slowly on the controls, arresting their momentum ever so slightly. “Now pay attention,” he instructed as he made a sharp turn into a nearly hidden cavern. “You should know how to navigate this passage in case you ever need to traverse the realms without the Bifrost.”

“Shall I take notes?” she inquired with an expertly arched brow.

“Sigyn, please,” he scoffed, manoeuvering them through a particularly narrow tunnel. “You are always bragging about your eidetic memory. Time to put it to use.”

She bristled at the accusation, even though she knew it to be accurate. “As you wish,” she conceded, and took careful mental images of every change in direction.

“This intersection is vitally important,” he announced as he brought the vehicle to a complete stop. Her gaze swept the cavern, memorising every detail. “Going left from here will take you back to Asgard.”

“And going right?”

He narrowed his eyes mysteriously. “We shall see.” With a sharp thrust of the controls, they were rocketed down the starboard corridor.

They continued to pick up speed as they followed the tunnel, and she could barely hear herself think over the rush of air past her face. “Speed is of vital importance when breaking through to a neighbouring realm,” he shouted over the howling wind. “Too slowly, and the barrier will repel you. Too quickly…” His lips curled into a villainous smile, “and go straight to Valhalla. If you’re lucky.”

Sigyn shivered at the very thought. _I’m in no hurry to travel there just yet._ She switched to telepathy so she wouldn’t injure her voice by yelling.

 _Nor am I,_ he agreed with a hint of irony. Unspoken between them was the sobering idea that Valhalla might not be in his future at all. But that was a problem for another day.

 _Brace yourself,_ he warned her as they approached a wall of shimmering light.

Sigyn nodded, and gripped the side of the makeshift sleigh with both hands. She cringed into her seat and closed her eyes as their target grew larger and larger.

She suddenly felt as if she had been slammed into the curtain of Franang’s Falls, and her eyelids flew open from the shock. But the sensation only lasted a split second before the ship was spat out onto a frozen tundra.

“Ta da!” called her husband as the vehicle began to decelerate. “Gods, that never gets old.”

Sigyn’s eyes widened so much she was afraid they would never go back to their normal size again. Gigantic spikes of rock pointed up at a twilit sky and smaller stone formations littered the area surrounding them. Everything was covered with a white powder, finer and whiter than flour. A pathetic star that could hardly be considered a sun hovered low on the horizon. The clear air hung heavily on her shoulders like a cloak. But this cloak was icy cold, and she suddenly wished she were dressed even more warmly than she already was.

“Welcome to Jotunheim, Lady Greensleeves,” he pronounced as he pulled a few brake levers.

 _Hello, winter!_ she thought with unrestrained glee, and he reflected her joyful smile back at her.

Once they had come to a complete stop, Loki jumped out of the vehicle and offered his arms to Sigyn, who gladly took them. She was startled by the crunching sound her boots made as they touched the ground. For a moment, all she could do was watch her husband as he surveyed the landscape with a critical eye.

“The old place seems to be recovering nicely,” he mused as he turned in a small circle. “Apparently, the Casket is doing its job again. You’re welcome.”

Sigyn looked at him quizzically, but he merely took her hand and dragged her across the white wastes. Blankets of snow were draped across the shapeless stone features, rendering them into a vision of a grand outdoor palace, nicely furnished. Loki bent down and gathered some of the snow in his hands. Soon, he had created a perfect icy sphere. Grinning, he placed it back down and sent it spinning over the ground, growing larger as it rolled away like a sentient thing.

“What in the Nine Realms?” she wondered aloud as the snowball made a circuit around a nearby rock formation and returned to them, larger and rounder than ever.

“Haven’t you ever seen a snowman before?” he asked with a smirk.

“Not in person,” she reminded him, wrapping her arms tightly around herself to fend off the cold. “So, that’s how it’s done?”

“Well, typically humans dispense with the magic bit,” he admitted with a shrug. “They think it’s cheating or some such.”

“Do they really?” She pretended surprise, but her dark blue eyes radiated cheekiness.

“Oh, yes,” he confirmed, his mien a perfect reflection of hers. “Your turn.”

Sigyn reached down and grabbed a handful of the white powder. She nearly dropped it immediately. She had never touched anything so cold in her life. Well, that wasn’t quite accurate. Sometimes, the charm that warmed Loki’s blood wore off, especially on the rare occasions when he actually slept. Several times, she had awoken in the small hours, shivering violently and had to vacate their bed to relieve the chill in her bones. She always felt badly about it, as if it were an inherent weakness in herself that she couldn’t abide such low temperatures. When she had explained why she sometimes had to escape his arms in the middle of the night, he told her that he understood. But there was no escaping the sadness in his eyes as he realised that it was his fault that she couldn’t stay.

As soon as she had packed the snow as tightly as she could, she placed it on the ground as he had. With a shower of pink sparks, the snowball rolled away down a different path than the one its brother had just taken.

“Make sure this one isn’t quite as large,” Loki instructed as the snowball spun in mad circles. “It has to fit on top of the other one.”

After a few minutes, the snowball glided to a gentle stop beside the first. Sigyn hummed in delight as she levitated it into place.

“One more…” The way Loki said it made her vaguely suspicious of his next move. But when he merely crouched as before to bunch the snow in his hand, she let her guard down for a moment. That was all he needed.

THWAP! The scoop of frigid slush struck her right in the face.

Sigyn quickly wiped the snow out of her eyes. “That was a dirty trick,” she scolded, shaking with cold and fury.

His contagious laughter echoed across the open plain. “I’m sorry, Sigyn, but you should see your face!”

“You don’t s-sound very s-sorry,” she muttered, chafing herself for warmth.

Loki’s chortling ceased abruptly when he noticed how miserable she looked. “My darling, your lips are turning blue.”

“No thanks to you!” she grumped.

“Well, we can’t go home just yet,” he explained regretfully, and her brows knitted together in curiosity. “However, I have just the thing.”

He grabbed her hand and dragged her back toward the “sleigh” which was less than twenty metres away. After giving her a boost, he launched into the skiff himself and piloted past the forgotten snowman toward an area where the snow had fallen more thickly. With one hand on the controls, he flicked his wrist, instantaneously completing the sculpture with a head that sported coal as its eyes, nose, and mouth as they zoomed by. Next, he summoned a kettle from wherever it was he stored such things when he didn’t need them.

“Are you sure you should be d-doing that while you’re d-driving?” she asked between her chattering teeth.

“I am an expert at multitasking,” he bragged, setting the kettle down and producing two copper tumblers to match.

He poured a hot, steaming drink into both vessels, all while keeping perfect control of the vehicle. Sigyn was impressed, but there was no way she was letting him know that. She didn’t want to encourage this sort of reckless behaviour after all. As soon as he had both hands firmly on the steering device, she stooped down and grabbed one of the cups. She could feel the heat of the beverage all the way through her thick woolen gloves. Sighing in contentment, she took a large gulp.

“Careful!” Loki called as she almost spit the brew back out.

“What is this?” she asked after swallowing. “Certainly not tea.”

“Glogg,” he said calmly, as though that should be perfectly obvious.

“And what, pray tell, is that?” she asked, taking a cautious second sip. To be fair, it wasn’t all that bad, but she had been expecting a different flavour when she first tasted it.

“A traditional mulled wine that is drunk on planets that actually have a winter.”

The wind whipping through the vehicle was causing the mug to cool rapidly, so she was able to quaff it quite quickly now. “‘Tis warming my insides nicely,” she said appreciatively.

“I thought it might,” he replied with a smug grin, lifting the other cup to his own lips.

“Where are we going?” Sigyn wondered as she helped herself to more glogg.

“Not exactly sure…” he mumbled, frown lines etched in his forehead. “But we’re getting close. I can feel it.”

Sigyn couldn't fathom what he meant by this, but she could tell he was concentrating on navigation, so she let the matter rest. Instead, she scanned their surroundings the way he had been doing. The further they traversed, the deeper the snow seemed to get as though they were tracking a flock of large white birds that were leaving mounds of feathers in their wake. She shivered as a large drift shed a patch of snow on her lap as they passed. “L-L-Loki,” she stuttered, beginning to shake with chills again.

He turned to look at her, and she was shocked to notice that his skin was beginning to have a bluish tinge as well. “Drink your glogg,” he said quietly as he sharply faced front once again.

The wheels in Sigyn’s head were spinning at a million kilometres a minute. The weather was getting progressively worse the closer they got to whatever he was searching for. And now, her husband’s Jotun colouring was starting to bleed through his fair Aesir complexion. “Do you seek the Casket you spoke of earlier?”

Loki narrowed his eyes as he met her steady gaze. “It’s not safe here,” he insisted. “If the Jotuns gain their true power again…”

“But you were the last one to have it, weren’t you?” Sigyn’s mind spun, trying to make sense of his actions, but as usual, his reasoning was incomprehensible to her. Of course, the alcohol she had consumed wasn’t helping matters.

He gave a nervous fake laugh. “My dear, naive little wife. Yes, I had it when I fell off the Bifrost Bridge. But I did not keep it.”

She was about to remind him that this “fall” had been intentional, but she thought the better of it. “Then who..?”

Poorly disguised fear began to creep slowly over his face. “My ‘rescuer.’ I refuse to desecrate your sweet ears with his name. Suffice it to say, once he discovered that the Casket did not hold the power he desired, he returned it to its rightful owners, hoping they might repay his benevolence with loyalty.” He made a noise of mocking disbelief. “Clearly, he is not acquainted with the treachery of my people.”

“What are you going to do with it?” Sigyn found she dreaded to know the answer.

“Lock it in Father’s vault, of course. Where it belongs.”

She released a sigh of relief, and he suddenly looked hurt. “What did you imagine I would do with it?”

“Well, I don’t know!” she exclaimed throwing her hands up in exasperation. “You did just take me on quest to recover a dangerous weapon under the guise of an anniversary trip.”

Loki grimaced at her assessment of the situation. “Not my finest moment, I grant you. But have pity, Sigyn. I’m new at this husband business.”

She didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or wring his elegant neck. Fortunately for him, her gentler inclinations won out. “One of these days, your poor decisions are going to lead you into dire straits, and you won't be able to find a paddle.”

“I pray that day is eons in the future,” he eagerly agreed, lovely eyes pleading for mercy.

She exhaled heavily and was about to absolve him when she suddenly spotted something glowing blue in a nearby cave. _Is that..?_

Loki followed the direction of her gaze and immediately halted the craft. He vaulted over the vehicle with the stealth of a black cat. _Stay here,_ he commanded her, and she stiffened at the slight but obeyed.

As soon as he disappeared into the blinding whiteness, she sent out a psychic blast and noted that there were only two Jotuns guarding the Casket. Apparently, they thought it would be safe out here in the middle of nowhere. What they didn’t count on was one of their own being able to detect it. Everyone thought Loki dead after all. And none of his kinfolk knew how powerful he had truly become. Sigyn couldn’t resist a proud smile.

Suddenly, she detected Loki’s mental energy working its magic. His influence breached their consciousnesses willing them to sleep. He even created an illusion of a richly furnished bedroom with two large luxurious beds in it. The Frost Giants shook their heads trying to rid themselves of the compulsion to close their eyes and rest, but it was no use. Loki was a master of this form of mind control by this point, and his brethren’s brains were pathetically weak compared with his. Even Odin had proven unable to resist his son’s hypnotic abilities once he persisted at it long enough. Sigyn shuddered at this awesome display of his skill in the mental manipulation of others. Thank the gods he was finally using his talents for good.

After about a quarter of an hour, Sigyn saw a flash of blue brilliance in the billowing snow. Loki approached holding the Casket in front of him, and she caught her breath as she noticed his skin glowed completely azure as well. With his long black hair whipping around his shoulders, he looked more like a creature of the night than her beloved husband.

He quickly handed her the crystalline box and jumped into the driver’s seat once more. As soon as he let go of it, his pale Aesir complexion began to resurface, and she sighed in relief. It wasn’t that his Jotun form had been repulsive to her. In fact, quite the contrary. Something about beholding him in his natural state had quite stolen her breath away. But that terrifying wildness in his eyes...that was something she could do without ever seeing again.

Loki wasted no time in starting up the hovercraft and gunning it for the mountains, tossing his gaze over his shoulder to make sure they weren’t being followed. Sigyn managed to negotiate steadying the ice-cold Casket with one hand while she nursed her glogg with the other. She had lost track of how many glasses she’d had, and she wasn’t sure if the world was spinning because of the speed at which they were travelling or the amount of alcohol she’d drunk.

Whatever the cause, the trip was a blur to her until they entered the mountain passage and returned to the intersection he had shown her before. Once again, he turned right. Since they were now facing the opposite direction, that meant they were headed toward…

“Asgard?” Sigyn protested as they charged down the new path. “But I need to return to Vanaheim.”

“Not until the New Year,” he insisted, pressing his lips into a firm line. “I refuse to be alone for the remainder of Yuletide. Besides, we need to return that trinket to its rightful place.”

Sigyn was sure there must be some fault in his logic, but her foggy brain couldn’t decipher it at present, so she merely nodded. As the air grew warmer, she found she no longer needed to drink to retain heat. This was fortunate as she was nearing her limit with the glogg. She wasn’t completely intoxicated, just tipsy enough that the world had a pleasant glow and her mind had a comfortable fuzzy feeling. She would likely suffer no ill effects in the morning.

Soon, she spotted a barrier similar to the one they’d passed through on their way to Jotunheim. Clutching the Casket with both hands, she once again prepared for impact. This time, the entry wasn’t nearly as bracing. In fact, it felt more like entering a lukewarm shower than an icy waterfall. When the vehicle spit out on the other side, she was ecstatic to see the golden city of Asgard on the horizon. As much as she had enjoyed travelling, there was something infinitely satisfying about coming home again.

Loki docked the skiff somewhere on the outskirts of town. He turned, beckoning for her hand over the Casket. His mouth twitched in irritation when she held onto it all the more tightly.

“Sigyn,” he began warningly. “This marriage is all but worthless if you can’t learn to trust me.”

“I do,” she protested, and he gave her a withering glare. “Oh, all right, you caught me. I _want_ to trust you, but you don’t make it easy, you know.”

“I know,” he sighed, fixing his intense gaze on hers. “I swear to you that I will take Casket to the Vault first thing tomorrow morning, but there is something I must do with it first. Nothing sinister, I assure you. You can use Gram on me if you don’t believe me.”

“That won’t be necessary,” she said with the merest hint of a smile. She carefully lifted the troublesome chest and laid it gently in his waiting hands. Instantly, it disappeared into the mysterious other dimension that only he seemed to be able to access.

“I shall return shortly,” he promised, helping her out of the sleigh one last time. “Be an angel and stoke the fire for us?”

“Why must _I_ always be the angel?” she muttered halfheartedly. “When will it be _your_ turn?”

“Someday very soon, I hope,” he quipped with a wink as he headed off toward the Vault alone.

Later that evening, she lay with her head in his lap as they sat before the roaring hearth in their bedroom. He was attired in his typical Asgardian apparel, she was still wearing the crushed-berry jumper and jeans he had brought her from Earth. Although, truth be told, the Asgardian climate and the fire were starting to cause her to overheat.

“How did you enjoy your first experience with winter?” he asked cautiously. “Apart from the whole ‘dangerous weapon’ debacle.”

Sigyn’s brow creased as she relived the day. “‘Twas a mixed blessing. The snow was beautiful to be sure, and building the snowman was amusing. But I simply could not tolerate the cold. All things considered, I believe that the best way to appreciate winter is beside a cozy fireplace.” She gazed out the window as if to prove her point, and was astonished to see a gentle flurry of flakes floating down. “Loki, did you..?”

His mischievous grin was all the confirmation she needed. “Let’s just hope the Casket doesn’t accidentally trigger Fimbulwinter by mistake.”

She shook her head at her impossible husband. “Only you could jest about Ragnarok.”

He gently brushed the hair away from her face and bent down to offer the benediction of his lips against hers.

“Merry Christmas, my Midgardian Maiden.”

She traced the outline of his gorgeously sculpted cheekbone with her finger. “Gleðileg Jól, my Jotun Prince.”

**Author's Note:**

> Asgard's climate/seasons - Asgard is flat, so I decided when I was writing [Devil in Disguise](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14209299/) that their days are always exactly 12 hours long. Because of this, they likely wouldn't enjoy the seasons the same way we do on parts of Midgard. As further proof, the weather seems to be stable in the MCU movies as well.
> 
> sixth-month anniversary - their wedding in Devil in Disguise transpired on June 21st. When I first began planning this fic, I had totally forgotten this fact. As soon as Loki said the date of the Solstice, I thought "Crap, I forgot it's their anniversary." I'm sure Loki felt a similar way. ;)
> 
> Greensleeves - a traditional English folk song that also happens to be the melody of one of my favourite Christmas carols, "What Child is This?" I thought it would be a bit odd to have Norse gods singing about the Christian Messiah, so I played around with the original lyrics instead.
> 
> "a man with wild ginger hair and beard" - Loki has disguised himself as his Midgardian alter-ego Tom Hiddleston. Not the cleverest camouflage, although I have heard that certain people find it hard to believe that they are the same person. 
> 
> Jólnir - In Norse mythology, the aspect that Odin dons at Yuletide when he flies across the skies of the Nine Realms on his eight-legged horse, Sleipnir, and delivers presents to all the children. Yes, you read that right. Odin was the original Santa Claus. Consider your mind blown. 
> 
> Franang's Falls - In the original mythology, Franang's Falls is the place where Loki hides from Odin after killing Baldur and provoking his wrath. Franang's Falls also appears in the comics. In both cases, it is located on Midgard. For the purposes of this continuity, I placed it near Nornheim on Asgard. Loki and Sigyn have a "date" there in _Devil in Disguise._
> 
> "the charm that warmed Loki’s blood" - Loki's body temperature is colder than the Asgardians' due to his Frost Giant heritage. It registers as extremely low when he is inside the holding cell in _The Avengers._ I figured that Odin must have discovered a way to hide this at least somewhat or everyone would know he was different. Since Loki's exposure to the Casket in _Thor_ he has to make a conscious effort to heat his blood, which he does out of love for his wife.
> 
> Glogg - a mulled wine that is enjoyed in the Scandinavian countries, especially at Yuletide. 
> 
> "I refuse to desecrate your sweet ears with his name" - Loki refers to the Mad Titan, whom he never call by name until moments before his death in the MCU. I refuse to say his name either. :( 
> 
> Fimbulwinter - In Norse mythology, the harsh winter that immediately precedes Ragnarok. 
> 
> Gleðileg Jól - Merry Christmas/Happy Yule in Icelandic, a language that I've already determined Sigyn and Loki both speak since they read the _Íslendingasögur_ (Icelandic sagas) in _Devil in Disguise._


End file.
